


Moving Through Time

by zoofly (kittenchilton)



Category: U2
Genre: Achtung Baby era, Dreams, M/M, bedge - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenchilton/pseuds/zoofly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bono and the Edge have some. . . interesting dreams during the pre-Achtung Baby days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving Through Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is so old, but I found it in my files and realized I never posted it anywhere. Hope there are still some Bedge fans around!

_Bono pushed the thick branches aside and looked down the twisting path that led deeper into the woods.  He’d seen the path so often in his dreams that he’d even begun to see it in his waking hours, materializing whenever he closed his eyes.  It was narrow and covered in several layers of densely packed leaves in varying stages of decay.  Ancient.  Inexplicably, there were lamp-posts lighting the path every thirty feet or so , which reminded him of a darker and less wintry Narnia._

_He hesitated and glanced around at the trees, which seemed to go on forever.  Something about the scene seemed off to him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  He made his way down the path at a slow and dreamy pace, and it was the distant sound of running water that finally made him realize what was wrong: he was in a different part of the woods now.  Somehow he’d ended up farther along the path than in last night’s dream.  His heart lurched suddenly  in his chest and he realized that there was genuine fear mixed with his curiosity.  He’d known this was a dream since the first time he’d had it a week ago, but something about it had an air of foreboding that frightened him a little, rational or not._

_He suddenly noticed the little sign in the distance, an ancient-looking thing made of wood and turned dingy with time.  There was text on it, something written in a Gothic script .  Bono squinted, trying to make out what it said as he got closer._ ACHTUNG! _it proclaimed.  The word was familiar; he’d come across it in Germany, usually on signs that also included an exclamation point inside of a triangle.  The weight in his stomach grew heavier, but something compelled him to keep moving._

_\--_

Bono blinked as the morning light assaulted his sensitive eyes.  He never woke abruptly from these dreams.  They always just melted away into the darkness and he could remember no distinct end to them when he woke up, only the path in the woods and the peculiar feeling of curiosity tainted with unease.  He yawned, pushed his ink-colored hair out of his face, and prepared to face the day.

Throughout the day Bono found himself asking people to repeat themselves more than usual, and his distracted behavior elicited so many impatient little sighs from Larry that he thought he would lose it completely.  Fortunately, he didn’t, and after the third or fourth time Bono grinned sheepishly.  “Sorry, Larry.  I must need to increase my caffeine intake or something.”

“Well, do whatever you need to, but _please_ try to pay attention from now on,” Larry said in a slightly huffy tone. 

They continued to discuss their future as a band, a topic that had been causing headaches all around for weeks now.  It seemed as if everyone wanted to go in a different direction, and by the end of the day Bono felt that they had accomplished nothing but drifting even further apart.  He sat on the edge of his bed, staring absently at the wall for several minutes before heaving a big sigh and turning the light off.

\--

 _Bono stared at the_ ACHTUNG _sign, feeling his stomach twist.  What was it warning him about?  He wished it was more specific.  He continued down the path at his usual slow dream-pace, straining his senses for any sort of clue.  He eventually began to notice that some of the lamp-posts’ lights were dimmer than others, and that many of them were dirty and covered in cobwebs.  His stomach grew even heavier_.

\--

“Look, Bono, what’s _wrong_ with you lately?” Larry demanded during lunch the next day.

Bono looked at him, startled.  “Larry, I-“

“If you have something you want to say, just say it,” Larry said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t know what you think I ‘have to say’ to you, Larry,” Bono replied, his voice suddenly testy, “but I – I just. . .”  He sighed.  “Fine.  This may sound stupid, but I’ve been having this recurring dream and it’s really getting to me.”

“Well, what’s it about?” Adam asked after a few seconds of silence.

“It’s stupid, really.  I’m in this forest, walking along a path.  But it’s scary, like I somehow know there’s some danger ahead.  And every night I get closer to it.”  Bono looked down and saw that he’d been ripping his bread into tiny pieces.

“I’ve been having a recurring dream,” Edge spoke up suddenly, and everyone turned to look at him.  “Mine’s scary, too.  I’m cooking something in my kitchen and there’s this report on the radio that there’s an escaped killer on the loose.”

“It must be all this stress,” Larry said dismissively, reaching for his cigarettes.

“I’ve had one too,” Adam said.  “In mine I’m dating Naomi Campbell.”  That broke the tense mood and they all laughed so hard that for a minute it almost felt like there was nothing wrong.

\--

_Bono walked down the winding path, noticing for the first time that he was barefoot.  The ground yielded slightly under his feet and he noted with some discomfort that there were tiny pebbles among the leaves.  He also noticed that the strange, old-fashioned shirt he wore didn’t do much to protect him from the increasing chill._

_He stopped abruptly  when he came to a lamp-post that was unlit.  There was something else wrong with it, too; it seemed much higher than the others were. Were they growing, or was he shrinking?_ That’s the last thing I need, _he thought, his self-deprecating humor intact even in his dreams.  He could barely make out the next one, as the fog that he hadn’t noticed until now was seeping onto the path._

_As he approached the lamp-post, he noticed that there was some sort of cabin or small house in the distance.  Looking at it made him feel even colder._

_“Excuse me, sir,” came a voice, and Bono jumped, letting out a little yell.  He turned to see a pair of raggedly-dressed children with hair of different shades of blonde staring up at him with wide eyes._

_“We’re lost,” the boy said.  “Do you know the way out of the woods?”_

_“No,” Bono said, kneeling to their level.  He had meant to sound compassionate, but his voice cracked with fear._ That’s what I’m like, a frightened child, _he thought, surprised to find himself angry.  He forced himself to smile his most charming smile.  “I’m just following this path.  It has to lead somewhere.  I think there’s a house ahead.”_

_“No,” the little girl said,  tears spilling out from under her glasses.  Her grip on the boy’s hand grew tighter.  “There’s something bad in there.  We can’t go there.”_

This time Bono did awaken abruptly, practically flying out of his bed.  He gasped and drew in ragged breaths, as if he’d been underwater for a long time.  It was still dark in his room, the only light coming from his alarm clock.  3:52 AM.  He sighed and fell back onto his pillow, hoping that he’d be able to go back to sleep and not return to the dream.

_“Don’t go, mister,” the boy pleaded, as Bono felt himself walking toward the house, almost against his will._

_“I have to,” Bono said, and he knew it to be true.  He didn’t_ want _to get any closer to the house, but somewhere in the back of his mind there was a sort of dream-logic that told him that the only way to make the dreams stop was to see what was inside._

_“Look, go find some bread crumbs,” he said over his shoulder as his steps shortened the distance between him and the house.  The children, still holding hands, reluctantly disappeared into the trees._

_The house was dark and looked abandoned when he reached it, standing on his toes to look into a window.  He paced around for a few seconds before going to the door.  He knocked, and it opened by itself as an answer._

_He walked in cautiously and the heavy door slammed behind him, bathing him in almost complete darkness.  The only light was a narrow strip several feet away, as if from the bottom of a door.  Bono walked slowly toward it, his heart rattling in his ribcage.  He noticed a sweet, warm smell, and when he opened the door, his eyes widened in surprise._

_The room was a bright and cheerful kitchen, with yellow wallpaper and a checkered floor.  All of the surfaces were covered with every conceivable sweet: cupcakes covered in thick blue frosting, candy hearts on sticks, ribbons of taffy, huge squares of pastel marshmallows.  Caramel was bubbling in pots on the stove, and the oven contained something chocolatey._

_“Is anyone here?” Bono called out, forgetting his fear.  “I just let myself in because. . .”_

_“Out here,” came a faint voice, and Bono noticed the door.  What looked like a sunlit garden was visible through the heart-shaped window above the doorknob.  He looked around one last time and opened the door, a sight even more amazing than the kitchen meeting his eyes._

_It was more like a maze than a garden, the smooth, flat stones on the walls covered in vines.  The vines wound themselves up and down trellises and around birdbaths and sculptures of angels.  Huge roses in impossible colors bloomed everywhere, creating a prismatic effect._

_“Hello?” Bono called, his voice hesitant._

_“Here,” the voice called, much closer this time, and Bono recognized it with a mixture of confusion and relief.  He hurried toward it, and when the figure came into view, a wide, crooked grin spread on his face._

_“So it’s you, not some escaped madman,” the Edge said, smiling from his seat on an ornately carved stone bench.  He wore the same type of shirt as Bono, the lacing slightly undone.  His usually-braided hair was loose and wavy on his shoulders._

_“And you’re not an evil witch,” Bono said, and they both laughed heartily as he joined Edge on the bench.  There was an infinity pool behind it, which seemed to stretch on to the horizon.  It was a beautiful and terrifying thing to look at.  Bono turned to Edge, whose face was perhaps even more beautiful and terrifying._

_“We’ve found each other at last,” Edge whispered, and gently pulled Bono closer to him._

_“I don’t know what I was so afraid of,” Bono said, his lips so close to Edge’s that his words came out as a murmur._

_Edge grabbed the back of Bono’s neck in response, and their kiss grew deeper, their soft tongues like velvet in each other’s mouths._ This is better than any of the sweets in the kitchen, _Bono thought, and as he tried to tighten his grip on Edge, he lost his balance.  They both fell into the pool, disturbing its smooth surface._

_“Bono,” Edge laughed, sitting up.  The pool looked bottomless, but it was an illusion._

_“Even in dreams I’m clumsy,” Bono grumbled, but there was a smile on his face._

_“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Edge said, staring into the pale blue of Bono’s eyes, drops of water clinging to his lashes.  “You really are perfect, Bono, and I mean that.”  Before Bono could respond he pulled him closer for another sweet, melting kiss._

_\--_

Bono woke the next morning feeling better than he had in weeks.  He was smiling and humming as he sat down to breakfast, and Larry eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you so happy about?”

“I had a good dream last night,” Bono said, catching Edge’s eye.  Was he imagining the faint pinkish tinge spreading across Edge’s cheeks, or the sparkle in his green eyes?

“Is your life dictated by what kind of dreams you have, or what?” Larry asked.

“Not entirely,” Bono answered, still cheerful.  “It’s just that this one somehow reassured me that we’re on the right path, even if it may not seem like it right now.  What about you, Edge?” he asked.  “Has your scary dream gone away?”

This time the Edge _did_ blush, a deep crimson.  He gripped the edge of the table and focused his eyes on the freckles under Bono’s  left eye, not daring to look any higher.  “Yes,” he managed to say.

Adam and Larry exchanged a look.

“I don’t think we’ll be having any more problems with this album,” Bono said, not taking his eyes off the Edge.  “I have all the inspiration I need.”


End file.
